By Danielle Susi
Watermelons void of their swollen potential. Alligator teeth fastened into rows between raised bed roots. Perfect attendance marred by the bus trapped in mud. Pressed white shirts. Stallion spines so rigid. These jocotes fallen and rotting on the same ground where too-thin puppies bite at my ankles. I want to trace the outline of this country with my tongue.
Danielle Susi is the author of the chapbook The Month in Which We Are Born (Dancing Girl Press, 2015). Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Knee-Jerk Magazine, Hobart, The Rumpus, Lines+Stars, DIALOGIST, and Midway Journal, among many others. She is a READ section contributor for The Angle and Newcity recently named her among the Top 5 Emerging Chicago Poets. Find her online at daniellesusi.com.